


Spectres

by Melitot



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Brother Feels, Brothers, Flash Fic, Gen, Ghosts, Growing Up, M/M, Near Future, No Real Ghosts, Slash, Soliloquy, Translation, What-If, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melitot/pseuds/Melitot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I do wrong to your memory. I know that."</i><br/>Laurent and what endures of Auguste, a few hours before the clash that will decide Vere and Akielos' destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spectres

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Spettri](https://archiveofourown.org/works/741873) by [Melitot Proud Eye (Melitot)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melitot/pseuds/Melitot%20Proud%20Eye). 



> Spectres from the past - both imaginary and not.
> 
> Pure speculation with a dash of canon ;) This may happen _after_ or _before_ the Reveal (we know the boys always encounter some setback); personally, I think Laurent has always known about Damen, but we'll see.  
>  Just a little tribute to the magnificence that is _Captive Prince_ : >

 

Only a few hours before the final clash, now.

Grooms, liveried servants and Akielons in half-armour, their powerful legs exposed to the air, are moving in Fortaine's vast courtyard. The old travel tents – shells as bright as paper lanterns – have been pitched for them between the stables and the tower. Somewhere down in the barracks, Damen is pulling the strings of all this. It is he at the heart of the army.

Laurent retires, closing the mullioned window's shutter with care but not leaving the sill. He feels suspended in time.

With a refulgent blaze, the sun dies on the horizon. Night falls and, slowly, the glass sends back a visage. On the pane's irregular surface, amber-coloured from the brazier's glimmer, it is vague enough not to look like his. Laurent stays still and gazes in the eyes of a ghost, breath caught.

The world's voices are far away. It's like being on the edge, at the threshold of the _other_.

"Do you see?" his mouth murmurs, and it's so stupid a thing to let it do. "I've grown up."

The face cracks a smile.

Hesitant, he raises an arm to trace its contours. Blond hair, an elongated oval, the chin and cheekbones of a man. Like Auguste's.

They had seemed unattainable.

"The more I age the more I resemble you... even if never enough" he whispers. "Maybe it will be sufficient to win, all the same?"

Somewhere in the castle a zither's strings tremble. The last diversions before death.

Laurent's lips twist. "I know I have let you down."

He comes closer. His breath leaves a fleeting halo on the ghost's cheek.

_I would ask for your forgiveness, were stupidity forgivable... and if I regretted love._

He lets their brows touch. The glass is slightly warm.

"I do wrong to your memory. I know that." And, in a murmur: _I know_.

The face ripples; Laurent closes his eyes.

"But he restored me to life." He's never been scared by the truth. "He's the most honest man I've ever met, after you."

This and much, much more.

But he doesn't say that, because he's done quite enough.

 

Below, someone kindles a bonfire. Laurent opes his eyes and find himself alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~Since I can't seem to find a beta and all my writing friends are busy, this wasn't proofread~~ I'm open to concrit, so please point out mistakes or bad syntax! :)


End file.
